Wednesday, April 5, 2017

I took ayahuasca with Donald Trump!

One morning I was walking through the desert behind my shack in Pearblossom when Betty the Coyote Creator Goddess greeted me from atop a medium sized boulder.

Greetings, Harry!  Betty called, Where are you headed?

Hello Betty.  I'm just wandering around, looking for inspiration to get through another day.

Yes, pressure is building throughout the biome.  It seems one of your big human wars is about to break out.  Plus ca change....

Betty, that's a cliche.  And tell me something I don't know.

That's a cliche too, Harry.

Here we are playing word games on the cusp of apocalypse.

Right, huh?  Listen, Harry, I have the perfect distraction from the realistic magic you suffer from.

"Realistic magic"?

That's what I call the other side of magical realism, that your girlfriend Pepper hated so much [see next post].  Your kind is trapped in magical realism’s opposite, realistic magic, where the magic is so well disguised you can't see it.

Hmm...Betty, what sort of distraction did you have in mind?

Then I noticed the small red pouch held delicately in her glowing teeth (she and I communicate telepathically).

What's in your mouth, Betty?

It's ayahuasca.  Heard of it?

It's like LSD, right?

The difference is that a human chemist invented LSD in 1938.  Ayahuasca was invented by the gods of the Amazon basin, so you can imagine it has certain properties beyond the LSD experience.

So you propose I have an ayahuasca trip with you in the desert?

I have a different idea.  First, take this pouch out of my mouth and remove the contents.

I did as instructed, removing a small, pliable purplish pellet.

Eat it, commanded the Trickster Goddess.  I complied.

We began to stroll across the desert, Betty leading the way.  After a time the ayahuasca kicked in with the usual stuff: a sharpening of colors, a lessening of the boundaries between things, a freeing of the mind from conventional connections, conclusions, assumptions.  The morning was cool and still, an added bonus. 

Betty, this would be an adequate LSD trip, but I'm not sure what's particular about ayahuasca.

Harry, this substance was designed by the gods to make certain types of communication possible, when it pleased the gods that humans engage in it.

What kind of communication?

As I asked this, we rounded a dune to behold a bowl shaped depression, at the center of which was a swirling, shimmering....

It's a mini-black hole, Betty explained.

Yeah?  Did you put it there?

No, it predates me.  The ayahuasca helps you see it.

Let me guess, we're going to jump through it.

Close, you are going to jump through it.

Maybe thanks to the ayahuasca I felt no dread.  It seemed a logical and very human thing to want to jump into that hole.

If I jump, then what?  Where will I be?  Will I be stuck there?

You will go to meet your counterpart, your negative, the antithesis of you.  

Wait, you mean I'm going to Kurt Vonnegut's.....

Yes, to the Infandibulum, where paradoxes find true love.

And getting back....?

You don't entirely leave here; you'll be drawn back by the part of yourself that stayed.  

Like the ba and the ka of the ancient Egyptians?

Minus the pyramids and pharaohs, yes.  Ok Harry, jump when ready!

I couldn't think of anything else I was ready to do, so I did a little hop and just glided into the thing and popped right out, re-dressed in a clean flannel shirt and jeans, seated in a chair across from the President of the United States, Donald J. Trump, in the Oval Office of the White House.

The two of us stared at each other for a few beats.  He studied me quietly, curiously, no sign of alarm.  I felt the need to speak first.

Mr. President, I'm sorry for this intrusion.  I don't exactly understand what's happening....

That's ok.  I took some stuff, aya...something....


Yes!  Steve gave it to me.  Do you know Steve?

No.  I don't know anyone here.  Would you like me to leave?

No, I was expecting you.  Before I took the aya...whatever, Steve told me that I would be visited by someone who could give me great new perspectives.  I had told Steve I needed a little something. You know, we're more or less on top of things, but it gets intense and you need some R&R.  

I understand, Mr.....shall I call you Mr. President?

Just call me Don.  Who are you?

Harry, aka Harry the Human.  I'm a telepath.  In my youth, in the Hippy 60's, I did performances in the Haight.

A hippy! I've always wanted to talk to a hippy!  What is it with you guys?


I mean, you don't give a shit that you live in a fantasy?  That all your ideas about things are from another planet?  The peace and love planet?  The "We are one" planet? Guess what, Harry- we don't live on that planet!

Well put, Don.  That's a good description of the situation.  But which is worse, finding that your ideas about life are fantasy based, or accepting reality, day in, day out, with no escape?

Touche, Harry.  Honestly, sometimes I don't know why the hell I'm doing this.  It was exciting at first, just to be able to show people I was not a dummy, that I was actually smarter than they were, and now they know it...very exciting, but the shit here just doesn't stop.

Don, I have to confess I've been writing things about you that you might not like.

Such as?

Well, I wrote that you fulfilled a prophecy in the biblical Tower of Babel story [see posts below].

Yeah?  That's when God got angry and made it so everyone speaks different languages?

Yeah, like now, it seems like people can't communicate.

And that's supposed to be my fault! 

He looked at me sadly, I thought, and I realized I was speaking directly with his subconscious (as we presumptuously call it).  The gods put into ayahuasca the ability for mind to mind, soul to soul contact.  It seemed safe enough. The parties do their business, then each withdraws, back through the black hole, back to normalcy.

I tried to soothe him: 

Don, on top of nobody understanding each other, it seems like everybody understands you.  Only you!

Yeah, he grinned, Everybody only understands me!  How the hell did I do that? Answer me that. How the hell did I do that?

I understand your frustration, Don.  We get ourselves worked up about life, about defeating things that make our lives hard.  We may defeat those things, but it's still the same fucking life.

Damn right, Harry!  It's still the same fucking life!

People will kick you when you're up as well as down!

Right again, Harry the Human!  I can tell you've been around the block a few times.

Don, I've got to ask you, and feel free to decline, but this seems like a safe place....

Go ahead, Harry.  I find this therapeutic.

Well, I've written a lot about the military industrial complex, which was President Eisenhower's concept.  Remember him?

Yes, we were little boys....

We mused quietly for a bit.  Don continued:

I've heard of the military industrial complex.  It's some lefty idea right?

Well, sometimes it's a right wing idea too.


The military industrial complex is all the private interests that make money off war and preparation for war, and the government defense agencies that make policy.  

Yeah, sure, what about them?  Wonderful people, by the way.  

I'm sure many are, but Eisenhower saw a potential for collusion between profits and policy.  I should note, I've added the media to Eisenhower's phrase, since it has become an extension of manipulated war policy.

The media!  I showed those cocksuckers!  

I have to admit you did.  Do you read the New Yorker?

Sometimes my people show me stuff.

Boy do they hate you.  

Yeah, because I'm not Ted Kennedy, all polished and patrician.  

Don, how the hell do you know the word "patrician"?

Don laughed.  If you couldn't tell, the ayahuasca was loosening us up.  I felt the need to get back to serious discussion points.

Anyway, Don, back to the military media industrial complex, how do you get along with those guys? What's with the secret plan to destroy ISIS? That's their turf, you know. You're a real estate guy.

Harry, I just follow the news like everybody else, and I see when a story gets weak.  It gets weak when everything takes too long to happen, like in a bad story that puts people to sleep.

Sometimes I like going to sleep.

Sure, but don't you like to wake up too?  And when you're awake, don't you want things to happen? The military, etc. complex was spinning the same story over and over, about communists, about terrorists, about North Korean nukes, and nothing ever happened.  Generations passed, and nothing happened.  No story.  I'm saying, it's time for a fucking story!

I had an epiphany, like a bolt of lightning.  

Don, I know why Betty did this....

Did what?  Who's Betty?

Sorry, The Coyote Creator Goddess.  She's at my end.  She hooked us up because we have something in common, which is that we both want something to happen.  We want different things to happen, though.

What do you want?

I want the predatory circus we call life to develop a sort of overall consciousness, to escape what the Hindus call the circle of life.

Escape the circle of life?  You mean kill yourself?

No.  The circle of life is not a good thing. You need to get out of it, actually, to live.

What's wrong with the circle of life?

What's wrong is that it's a circle.  It goes around and around- birth, life, death- doing the same things over and over, with no point, no...achievement.

No achievement?

If you sign a peace treaty, it's just the prelude to the next war.  Endless war...endless....

Harry, is this what a hippy is, someone who doesn't like war?

Well, that's part of it.  There's also a large dose of hedonism.

Pleasure loving!  

Yes, that's why hippies don't like war, because it hurts.

I guess they're right about that.  And I'm with you on pleasure.  Who are these people who oppose my pleasure?  Do they hate pleasure?

You can hate anything, Don.  If I may return to the military media industrial complex: It seems like they didn't see you coming.

No, but a few have been surprised by my abilities, and we are meshing nicely.

There will be some losers.

Of course, there are always losers.

Have you ever been a loser, Don?

Yes.  It hurts.

It does.  What if there were a way to "win," but not like the zero sum model, where you only win if someone else loses.  Listen, Don, hedonism, in my view, entails empathy.  In other words, the pleasure is greater if it's being shared and you are loved.  That's the ultimate hedonism.  Do you follow me?

Harry, I'm not dumb!  Of course I follow you!


No problem.  If I make a million dollars on a deal, someone else does not make that million, only I do.  If I become president, someone else doesn't.

Yes, Don, of course.  That's the process in the real world.  But Betty, the Coyote Goddess I mentioned, told me we are governed by realistic magic, so more things are possible than meet the eye.  Look at the two things we have in common: we both want something to happen, and we're both hedonists. Surely these two things could merge somehow into a wiser and more farsighted type of government policy.  That's the magic I'm talking about!

That would be some magic!  

I can't believe we're agreeing about something!  This is the most far out trip ever!

At that moment Betty the Creator Goddess appeared in a roiling cloud, calling to us it seemed from the mini-black hole.

That's enough fun for now, boys.  Harry, hop in!

I did as told and a moment later was standing alone in the desert, my house in the distance, a gila monster peering sadly at me, the sun going down and a hangover you would not believe.